


Don't call collect

by Kay245



Series: And I still hear the sound of the pack when they howl [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a happy ending for Daenerys, F/M, POV Daenerys, Sansa Stark (mentionned), Sansa and Jon happy ending, Tyrion Lannister (mentionned), but not with Jon though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay245/pseuds/Kay245
Summary: The Night King has been defeated. The war against the dead is won. Jon learned of his true lineage and made his choice between the wolf and the dragon. As Daenerys prepare to return alone to King's Landing, they have a last conversation. One about falling out of love and unearthing one true love.





	Don't call collect

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this story is a bit tricky. It focuses primarily on Jon and Daenerys and Sansa is only mentioned. However, this is Jonsa story as Jon and Sansa are in a secure relationship, with no uncertainty whatsoever about their feelings. While Jon's and Daenerys" relationship is heavily discussed, I didn't tag the relationship in purpose. Having already experienced it myself in other fandoms and hating it, I didn't want this story to appear in the Jonerys tag when there is no possible happy ending nor returned feelings at this point.  
> Yet, if you hate Daenerys and want only Jon to sleep with her for the North, this isn't the story for you. Yes, everything is said and done but at one point Jon did love Daenerys. Even if Sansa is his one true love.
> 
> So, I know, so many things that might irk both sides' shippers. But if you're not adverse to a story where feelings are not crystal clear from the beginning and are murked by shadows and misconceptions, you might enjoy this tiny bit.

After her discussion with Lady Sansa, Daenerys had slept a fitful night and felt more tired on the morning than on the eve. As she supervised the last of the packing of her things for King’s Landing, she went to the table by the window and served herself a glass of wine. One of the last in the reserve of Winterfell, it was also the finest possible. Of course, Lady Sansa wouldn’t want anything but the best for her guests. At the idea, she almost threw her cup to the wall. She’d had her fill of it, of the North, of the snow, of the people. She loathed the place with everything she had in her. This place where she’d lost everything she’d gained at Dragonstone. The maidens must have sensed her ire, as they hurried the most silently possible to finish packing everything. Daenerys look at the window, now eager for her departure.

 

There was a knock at the door. She turned and entered Jon, being approved by her guard. The maids used the opportunity to scurry away, before she even said something.  _ They’re not yours to command _ , sneered a little voice in her head. No, of course they would bow to another. To the sister of the man she’d thought would be hers. She took a long look at him then. He looked solemn, as if the reveal of his lineage had filled him with a new gravitas he only had on the battlefield before.  _ Here is a king _ , whispered traitorously her mind. She turned back to the window as her heart squeezed. Her gaze snagged on a figure ensconced in grey, a white wolf at its side.  _ Her. _ The contemptuous flame in her heart made her turn back to Jon. He smiled sadly at her.

 

“My Queen, I come to enquire if you have everything for your safe return to the Capital.” he said politely, with a caution born of the desire to mend bridges.

 

“Yes, I have, of course. Lady Sansa is nothing but the best host.” she replied, making sure to emphasize how the elder Stark was the one running Winterfell and not him. A dark corner of her heart hoped he would take umbrage at that. 

 

Jon, though, just kept smiling apologetically The remark on his sister - no, unfortunately, no longer sister, _ cousin _ \- not ignored but unimportant to him. He’d never cared for power, she knew. After their gaze met and held, hers full of reproach and his full of sad determination, he finally sighed and bent his head in departure. Suddenly, she couldn’t help but grapple for another moment of his presence, knowing that after that none would ever be the same. Thus, before she knew it, she said:

 

“You know, aunt and nephew is not that different from cousins in regards to the law. There have been precedents, you know.” She stretched her lips, in what hopefully was an endearing smile. Praying that desperation didn’t lace her words too much, she added. “And not only within Targaryen’s line.”

 

He fixed his thoughtful eyes on her and she’d almost recoiled at the pained emotion in it.

 

“I know.” he said softly.

 

Her heart stopped a little. She hadn’ expected for him to admit it. As a hopeful fire rekindled in her heart, her fighting spirit seized on it. This she could work with. This was the littlest bit of ground she needed. Like when a dam broke and submerged the earth below, she couldn’t fight the outburst of her turbulent emotions:

 

“So why?” she cried.

 

The anguished question echoed loudly in the room. Jon’s stance stiffened in embarrassment and remembrance of similar arguments on cold nights before this. At the sight, Daenerys could see that those shadows would only hover and smother her attempt at salvage. Taking a page from Lady Sansa’s book, whose poise seemed to work so well on Jon, she regained her composure and added: 

 

“Why do you stay here? In the harsh Winter, shun by people who will only see you as a Stark’s bastard. And not as the right one’s even. Why don’t you come back to King’s Landing with me? Where the climate is warm and you’ll be valued and recognized as a true King. Aren’t you done with all this snow?” she pleaded.

 

The flash in Jon’s eyes told her he didn’t miss her implied pique at his former status of “bastard”. She held his gaze, hoping that her eyes would convey all the bright future that could be had by her side. Jon, though, looked away at the window and she could feel him pulling even further away from her. Yet, he stayed and this alone helped revive the bit of hope that he might change his mind. Regaining another bit of spirit, she said:

 

“I know you want to mend the Starks. That you’ve always longed to be truly part of the family.” she softened her voice, knowing that with any misstep, she might lose him for good. “But that family you’re trying to repair is dead.” 

 

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes when he frowned at her and she hurried in her explanation.  _ Softly, softly _ murmured her mind to her.

 

“They are gone Jon. Your brother Bran, a husk left for the three-eyed raven to occupy. Who knows if he won’t even go back behind the Wall? Arya? Don’t you feel her restlessness? She’s just the uprooted shadow of your beloved sister.” 

 

Her eyes surveyed him fervently, watching the impact of those difficult words. He didn’t deny any of them though. She felt a weight lift, knowing that what was coming would be easier.

 

“As for Lady Sansa, you know her only desire now is to be the Lady of Winterfell. What would you achieve if you stayed? I won’t have you as a mere Lord, you are of royal lineage. You would be Warden of the North. What would happen when you finally took wife?” she asked.

 

At his shocked gaze, she knew she’d hit true. Emboldened, she approached him slowly.

 

“Would you take away from the Lady of Winterfell her only home? Or would you deny yourself?”

 

A part of Daenerys, internally scoffed at that. While Jon was noble, he was too passionate a man to hold back his needs too long. Men were men, at some point, sooner rather than later, they did succumb to the temptation. But still, at the disbelief painted on his face, she knew that he wouldn’t agree with her. So, she pressed on another weak point:

 

“In that case, what about the Stark line? Would you rather let it go to extinct? Would you all be the last direwolves? Or will you pawn one of your Lords on your sister?” 

 

At his recoil, she could feel victory loom for her. She recalled well the disaster that had been the attempt at a match between Lady Sansa and Jaime Lannister. She felt a cruel joy at using that moment when the Red Wolf had gained the upper hand on her. In her dark pleasure, she even let herself have a last lash at the woman who’d always found a way to come between Jon and herself.

 

“And what of the Lords themselves? What man would endure your disfigured ice maiden as a wife? Who would resign themselves to such a cold and ugly bedding?” she finally dropped as she looked to the side, her face in a mask of pity, eyelids lowered to hide her sadistic elation at belittling her one true rival in Winterfell.

 

Jon’s posture suddenly changed from stoic suffering to furious watchfulness. Daenerys became then abruptly aware that she’d overplayed her hand. She made to reach out to him to correct her mistake and close the emotional distance between them. He denied her and stepped back, shooting her a look so irate, time froze.The possessive anger in his glare told her all she needed to know about his opinions on Sansa Stark’s scarred body. He didn’t consider her beauty ruined. He would fight for the right to her embrace. Worse, she finally realised in a wave of sickness: the two of them had already lain together and their mating had been a passionate one.

 

The realisation punched through all the armor she’d carefully built around her fluttering hope and preconceptions. It suddenly dawned on her that his choice had never been one of duty. As the truth crystallised in her mind, jealousy and heartbreak burnt through her like wildfire. Leaving only raging doubt and betrayal in its wake. The words of the past eve, when she confronted Lady Sansa, came back to her mind.  _ He kissed me. And I kissed him back. Aye, it was born of desperation, but not only that. I felt I stole something from you. I wanted to give you something back _ . She remembered now, the embarrassed admission from the otherwise poised woman when she’d asked her why she’d almost gave her life to give her Viserion back. Those words, at the time, she’d thought they were a cruel lie. But they weren’t.

 

“I see. She actually told the truth then.” she murmured to herself as she looked to the ground, completely dejected. “And here I was a fool, thinking that your wolf’s blood made you disdain me when on this, it seems you are very much a Targaryen.” she scoffed mirthlessly. Yet, the implications of the truth of Jon’s and Lady’s Sansa relationship kept  being processed and another thought hit her.

 

“Was it all a lie? A masterful play to bind me to your cause?” she started again, the betrayal intensifying the anger in her voice. As she uttered the last words though, her voice broke. “Did you ever love me?”

 

She forced herself to look at him, making sure that he couldn’t look away. She knew she could only wait for a negative answer, but she needed to know. 

 

Jon’s rage at her disparaging his lover and his wounded pride at her sneer drained as he looked at her defeated stance. He sighed. However, this sigh wasn’t one of a man admitting to hurtful tricks. He looked in her eyes, his face painfully earnest.

 

“Aye, I did.” he said.

 

She hadn’t expected that answer, fortified herself in wait for an admission of guilt. The relief of knowing she hadn’t entirely been made a fool of lasted for a few seconds. However, the injury it left in its wake, more potent than she could possibly imagine. Her mind scrambled to make sense of it and failed. She couldn’t comprehend it. And as always when in the face of loss, self-righteous rage took over. As if another discourse could somewhat win his favour back, as if in the face of her fiery ire, he would change his mind.

 

“So what? What does she have that she could steal your affections?” She exclaimed in an angry burst. “ _ I  _ was the one who gave you the dragonglass so we could defeat the army of the dead.  _ I _ was the one who saved your life.  _ I  _ was the one fighting beside you everyday during the war.  _ She _ , she wasn’t there. She was safely here, protected by high walls, scheming away.” She ranted.

 

She knew well that those last words about the Lady of Winterfell were a very biased appraisal of her role in the Long Night. She knew that and hadn’t she have such a rancour against the woman, she would have asked her as council, so remarkable was her management of the resources during the harsh and endless battles. But she couldn’t admit that, not to the man who chose the same woman over her. At the pained shake of his head, she knew her words were hollow to him, tainted by all the things she didn’t mention.The little things that had enlarged further the gap between them. And one big thing. Daario. Wanting this part to be left unsaid, the re-hatch of it an unnecessary wound at this point, she changed her focus to the future:

 

“We are alike both of us. We hunger for Justice and won’t dally for politics. With me, you’ll be a King. Nobody would dare question our decisions. We would change the world for better.” she implored. “What is it that would be worth more than that?”

 

Jon had quieted during her desperate speech, except for a moment when something shifted in his eyes at her words. She couldn’t make about what. Finally, after a tick, he said:

 

“I trust her.” _ I don’t trust you _ was implied. He’d always known how to convey the full meaning of his thoughts in scarce words.

 

“What? You trust her? Lady Sansa? The queen of manipulation and back-alleys machinations? You trust  _ her _ over me?” She countered in almost maniacal disbelief.

 

At that, Jon shrugged, his weariness of the situation obvious. He seemed almost dispassionate about the whole thing. In that instant, Daenerys was afraid that he would thrust the Daario affair into the light, just to end the conversation. She braced herself for a moment, and then remembering Sansa’s words, she knew she had a weapon to fight back. Afterall, he did kiss his dear at-the-time sister  _ before _ she ever found comfort in Daario’s arms.

 

“She never manipulated me.” he replied, however. “All she ever did. All her shadowy dealings, all her political manoeuvring. It was never against me or against my goals. She always supported me.” he stated, his words taking a solennel edge. Back was the king, gone was the once-upon-a-time lover.

 

Daenerys was left reeling. Of all the things she was torturing herself with, of everything she’d thought over and over, this wasn’t one of. Yes, there had been fights. Yes, there had been mistakes. There had been that long time after Daario when she’d try to recapture Jon’s favour. But never had she thought their separation consummated. No, in her mind they’d always stood as a unit. Both of them together against the rest of the world. She opened her mouth to object to his statement but Jon raised the hand to halt her.

 

“You knew I wanted to protect her above all. So you told me tales of it, when the only thing you wanted was to remove threat to your power, whether in the North or over me.That’s what you’ve done. And what you tried again now.” he said, steel in his voice and his eyes.

 

Daenerys froze. The match she’d proposed back when Jaime Lannister arrived at Winterfell, after his desertion of his sister. That had been the turning point for Jon. Once again, she was left bewildered at her misconceptions about things. But now that it was laid bare before her, she could see that Jon’s detachment had started there. They had lain more sparingly together after that disaster. Almost always at her initiative. And he’d always been subdued after their bedding. Wistful almost. After the second death of Viserion and Sansa Stark’s almost, never again. A dark thought flowered in her mind then that maybe it was a silvery lined skin he’d wanted all those times instead of her flawless body. 

 

Jon’s gaze softened and she knew that her face must have reflected her pain and shock. She could feel a blush of dismay taint her cheeks. She wanted to speak but her voice was lost, all her thoughts prickly, thorny things that ate at her very soul.

 

“I don’t say that to hurt you, you know.” he finally said, another sigh as if this was a hard concession to make. “I mean… If our feelings were really that strong, we’d never have acted as we did. We would have trusted each other.”

 

Daenerys’ eyes started to water with bitter tears. He indeed, believed in his own words. She turned abruptly toward the window once again, not wanting him to see her heartbreak and wounded pride. She’d never been repudiated before. How did it hurt! And for him to admit that their passion, she’d cherished so, was barely above a passing fancy for him… She heard him moving slowly behind her but she refused to turn back again. He wouldn’t see her defeat. She wouldn’t let her humiliation be witnessed. After a moment, he finally cleared his throat:

 

“I’m sorry Daenerys, for your pain. Truly. Have a safe return to King’s Landing.” The emotion in his voice rang true and it did nothing to alleviate the heavy fog of sorrow that enveloped her.

 

Jon left the room and Daenerys kept looking through the window. He emerged from the door and went into the courtyard. There was a joyous howl in the direction where he was headed. She turned her back on the window, determined to miss the sight of the two Wolves, Red and White, intertwined. 

It wasn’t until a few years later that Daenerys would realise that Jon had been right. That their feelings for each other had held no candle to the deeper kind of devotion of real lasting love. As unbridled relief that her most treasured Hand had escaped the lethal clutches of the Bright Fever and in awed joy of revelation of love, she would think back to Jon’s words and admit their truth. Sometime later, she would also wonder if as her desperation in the probable loss of Lord Tyrion, his fear of losing Lady Sansa’s to a dead dragon’s cold fire had been the revelator of the deeply veiled sentiment. She would ask Jon of that. He would agree.


End file.
